


forget me not (it's 4 o'clock)

by cinnamonbunxx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, I don't know if I should have a major character death, In short, Insomnia, Lance works in the castle but mostly under keith, Love Triangles, M/M, Plance fluff, Prince Keith (Voltron), War, i started this after listening to 4 o'clock, i was emo, maybe smut??? idk, medieval but steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 23:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonbunxx/pseuds/cinnamonbunxx
Summary: Keith and Lance were close in their years living together in the castle, especially since Lance cares for his every need. Most importantly, when the prince is up late.As they both grow, Lance thinks about his future and they finally seperate due to Lance's ambitions, for he wanted more to life.It's been a few years now and prince Keith wonders how Lance is doing. So, he invites him to the ball.Basically, Lance is nervous and too damn dramatic for his friends to take care of.





	forget me not (it's 4 o'clock)

4 o’clock. Lance has never met anyone else that valued such a specific time in the day other than himself. He glances at his watch with slight anxiety to motivate his muscles, sighing. 

“He’s probably just busy,” Lance laughs it off, knowing damn well that  _ he _ probably isn’t, and puts his hand back inside the pocket of his coat. He buries half his face into his scarf in embarrassment and decides to walk further into the park. 

It was a bit warmer than usual, but still cold enough to dress up. The afternoon sun was out, almost beating on him, but the wind was fierce and occasionally blew through Lance’s now-unkempt hair. He didn’t really care anyways, now that he didn’t have much of an audience that he wanted to impress. There was also a fair amount of people in the park as well, as he walked past them, but they all came in pairs or groups. Lance isn’t too used to being alone.

“Life sucks,” He muttered to himself before he could think about him more.

* * *

 

I wrote a long letter to the moon under the big window. I knew I could never shine brighter than it, I smile sadly. 

“Lance?” Keith’s gentle voice called out from the door. His eyes had to adjust to the dark of the room, I bet. But I had the lonely moon to accompany me. 

He asks, “What are you doing?” and slowly I could see the flame of the candle he held inching closer before I could see the moon shine upon his face.

“I’m writing a letter,” I grin brightly at him and then look back at the pen and paper in my hands.

“You? Writing?” Keith scoffs. 

“It’s more often than you think,” my lips purse. And he comes closer enough for our shoulders to brush against each other. Even that small gesture made me feel warmer in the cold room, but sudden enough to make me shiver causing me to look back up to him. His puzzled face staring at the neat cursive placed on the white paper.

He glistened. Oh, how he glistened. Perhaps I’ll thank the moon later in my letter.

Through the window, the moon stained Keith’s features with a pretty shade of blue. His hair turned into a more inky color, matching the ink from my pen. His fair skin glowed.

“May I read it?” he asks softly and shyly. I could almost see his breath in the air.

“Sure, but it’s still unfinished,” and I hand it to him, my eyes following him as he walks over and sits opposite me on the window seat. 

He takes a few minutes. I give him my patience, for the letter is really just for him. 

_ 4 o’clock _ , I look at the grand clock at the corner of the room before I start to hear muffled sobs.

“Keith?” my eyebrows furrowed with worry and I immediately reach to hold his shoulders. “Dear Keith?” 

The hand he used to hold my letter was trembling. The moon made his tears glisten onto his other hand that desperately tried to keep the little drops from falling. He failed, and his eyes and nose ignored the blue of the room and only got redder. 

“Why are you crying?” I ask sincerely. “You and I are the only ones here.”

He answered me with a few more sobs as he put his wet hand down. 

“Keith,” I repeated. I had to lean closer to hold him with more proximity. “Please stop crying. I promise to get the letter redone.”

“N-No,” Keith’s voice wavers as he slowly holds me back, and then buries his face into my chest. I could already feel the remnants of his tears seeping through my night gown. Before I could let go, Keith embraces me even tighter. 

“It’s so beautiful, Lance,” he adds and I could only smile down at him, our eyes meet. I laugh a bit from his post-crying face, the tip of his nose red and eyes shining. My hands travel from his back to cup his face and I lower my neck to place a kiss on his forehead. He closes his eyes and grips onto my nightgown tighter so that we were really just in each other’s arms. 

The silence made the moment so serene. I couldn’t help but cherish it. That there were two moons that exist in my life.

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning. Lance was still dressed up magnificently, walking around the castle grounds and just enjoying the moon and the dark blue skies.

But he heard a faint melody playing in the distance, maybe from far up in one of the towers. Why wouldn’t he try to discover it?  It also sounded like a human’s voice, still eerily beautiful and late in the morning. Lance decided to play a little game in his head to guess who the voice could belong to. 

Perhaps one of the guards... or the queen? No. The queen has a lot to do later today. She would be getting rest. 

Lance checks off all the people on his mental list until he got down to Keith, which, made the most sense, and Lord, why was he so bad at this game.

Keith had insomnia, like him. That’s a big factor to why the two of them were so close. Hanging out after midnight to occupy each other’s time. They were also very close in age, but Keith was older by some months. They’ve become so close that Keith asked only Lance to drop the “prince” in front of his name. But it was only when they were mostly alone. Though, sometimes it slipped out in public when the two of them had lost their soberness to a couple of drinks.

He has only known Keith and the castle for almost nine years, so he knew the castle like the back of his hand. 

The voice that Lance followed seemed to be singing a requiem and it was melancholic enough to make Lance tear up without knowing. Lance was a crier, but he’d rather save the tears for later. Not until he found out who was singing. 

“They must be so sad,” Lance frowned slightly.

He was getting closer and his heart beat fastened. Especially when he saw light emitting from a window up in the tower. And the familiar long, black hair cascading down a familiar pretty, pale face. 

Lance held his breath. It’s like he couldn’t control himself (or his lungs in this matter). It was beautiful. Like it were a song for the moon or a song from the moon. He hadn’t heard such a melody before but he considered his ears blessed and looked back to the white ball in the sky. The stars seemed to twinkle and dance along to the melancholic notes from Keith’s voice. 

And it felt like the world stopped when Keith’s song ended. 

The moon was getting real low. 

“Sleep well, prince,” Lance whispers, hoping Keith wouldn’t catch it. 

And he heads back up to his chambers. 

 

* * *

It’s been awhile since Keith and Lance have been separated. Keith was getting closer and closer to his coronation, and Lance was still pursuing a dream. So opening his invitation after so long and seeing how different his penmanship is like now got Lance a bit emotional. 

He wouldn’t be any regular ruler. Nothing like his mother. Sometimes Lance would look at the castle and get reminded of Keith’s emo phase. “PAINT THE CASTLE BLACK,” he would screech at age 15.

“What’s that from?” Hunk points at the letter in Lance’s hands. He examines the silver and gold decoration on the envelope. In the very middle of the paper states “For Lance” in wonderful calligraphy.

“The prince,” Lance smiles nostalgically and a picture of his gallant and flowy hair pops up in his mind.

“The hell? You’re drooling Lance.”

Lance snaps out of his little reverie and blushes profusely in embarrassment, swiping his fingers across his chin. “I’m not drooling??”

Hunk shrugs, “The evidence is figurative.” 

His words brought Lance’s eyes to roll and then return to the letter in his hands. He was shaking slightly. 

“I-I’m kinda nervous..”

“What for? This is basically your childhood friend.” Hunk said.

“That’s the thing,” Lance frowned. “It’s been awhile.” 

Hunk holds out his hand, “Here, I’ll just open it for you,” He offers. Lance doesn’t respond, his eyes wary between the letter and his feet, and instantly Hunk understood Lance’s silence as a ‘yes’ (and a no) and he takes the letter from Lance’s hands, in which Lance makes no effort in fighting for. 

In Lance’s eyes, Hunk unfolds the envelope in slow motion. A comical sweat drops from Lance’s forehead and creates a tiny river on his face. Hunk scrunches his face as if the letter emitted a bright light, though we wouldn’t have been surprised. But he was doing a terrible job at making Lance’s stomach butterflies go away.

Slowly, he takes the letter out of the envelope and brings it away from Lance’s attention. Hunk was reading it closely, left to right, left and right, and oh my _ lord  _ my axilla’s are excreting (Lance thought).

“W-Well?” Lance’s voice shakes. Too much anticipation in the air. Lance had already made the situation dramatic as it is. What if it’s not a big deal? What if Keith just wants to know if Lance could give back his things? What if he’s inviting him to a ball?

“You’re invited to a ball!” Hunk beams and Lance falls backwards into his bed.

Fluffy. Soft, and safe, and warm, and big. Easier to deal with than a letter that was sent from someone whom Lance hasn’t seen in three years. All Lance yearns for is a long, deep sleep.  

Before Lance could overthink it, Hunk throws the letter at him, hitting him bullseye in the forehead. 

“READ THE REST,” he adds and Lance groans, struggling to get back up on his butt. Apparently Hunk had already read the rest, in which was in a much smaller print on the bottom. Hunk’s eye must be very sharp, Lance thought, and still kept his faux annoyed demeanor to humor Hunk. 

Lance’s heart was still racing of course. He grabs his pillow and squeezes it tight to his chest, perhaps to relieve stress or something. Lance could barely keep a steady breath, hearing his own heartbeat against the pillow sheet pounding loud in his ears, but his mind goes _ it’s not a big deal _ , _ it’s not that hard to just read a few sentences  _ and he guesses that’s really all that he needed to urge him on and read the miniscule words in Keith’s little eighteen year old voice. 

“ _ This is a private event to celebrate the prince’s birthday. Note that there are few that were invited. The prince understands if you don’t attend due to important matters _ ,” Lance finally finishes in his head and take one last moment to appreciate the golden simplicity in the letter’s design. 

“Is it bad how much I want to scream right now?” Lance asks with a face close to one of worry. Lance-y is very worried.

Hunk laughs aloud. “A fangirly scream? Or an anxiety driven scream?”

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed and he lowers his head onto his pillow. “Uhhhh, both?” 

Hunk rolls his eyes. “You’re a hopeless man.”

Lance was running late. As a bystander, you could see a man running frantically down the streets with rolled up plots in his hands, a few smaller pieces falling out, thankfully unimportant. He runs as fast as 

he can, in fact, bumping into some people and jumping over barrels here and there. 

“Pidge is gonna kill me,” he pants out.

At this point, he doesn’t know what  _ tired _ means. He enters the living part of the village then reaches a corner and drifts so sharply, you’d be impressed by the dust cloud he made. 

Lance’s little leather satchel bounces up and down as he goes. Squinting, he could see his destination. Lance looks down at his watch to aid his worry and seeing that he’s still fifteen minutes late makes his legs hate him even more. 

“Lance?” Hunk said after Lance ran past him. The sound of his voice was enough to stop Lance from running further. Typically, Lance needed this a lot. He felt overwhelmingly dizzy and Hunk looked like a blob of orange and earthy tones. His heart was running like a freight train and his skin looked comparable to a freshly glazed donut. 

“...How much did you have to run?” Hunk asks.

Lance takes some time to catch up his breath, yet he still fails. Still out of breath, he looks up as if to visualize it, “From the forest and then past the market and,” Lance cuts to pant out, “yeah..”

“You realize Pidge cancelled the meeting because of you, right?” Hunk cocks his left eyebrow.

“Wh-” Lance holds onto his knees. “She.. what?”

Hunk felt genuinely bad for Lance but the boy needed more exercise anyways. He crosses his burly arms and then sees a small figure in his peripheral vision. A certain blur of a light haired girl with big round glasses. 

“Hey look,” Hunk pats Lance. “It’s Pidge.”

Lance’s head makes an audible thwip from looking at the ground to looking at Pidge who was patiently walking closer. He couldn’t tell what kind of face she was making which made him feel even more anxious. 

Before he knew it, Pidge was there right in front of him and the sun glared from the lenses of her glasses. Lance still couldn’t read her face. But has he ever been able to?

“Lance.”

“Pidge,” Lance responded with a composed voice.

“You were late.”

“Yes,” he admits. His head was bowed down as if he was in shame but at least his voice was less breathy. Hunk looked at Lance with mercy like he was just about to be eaten up. 

“Okay.”

“...Okay?”

“Okay.”

“O...Kay?”

Pidge purses her lips. “Do I have to repeat myself? I said it’s  _ okay _ .”

Lance blurbs out some gibberish to perfectly display his confusion and then grips a bit harder to his papers. Hunk was taken by surprise as well. Pidge has always scolded everyone for being late or just about anything that seemed to tick her off. He didn’t know how such a small woman could hold so much power. 

This was unusual. This was  _ rare _ .

She takes off her glasses to catch Lance’s wandering attention. Successful, she examines his wary face and proceeded to lock her eyes onto his even though she knew he’d be intimidated.

His eyes were so pretty. They glistened in the sun and looked like deep ocean waves crashing into white sand. Sapphires dripped from his eyelashes. (Or maybe the sun was doing an amazing job for Lance.)

“Uh, Pidge?” Lance asked. She’s been staring at him for a moment too long. 

Pidge flinches, “Ah! Sorry.” She was flustered and could feel her face grow warm. Like the sun suddenly paid her a visit. “You just look like you need some food.”

Lance’s anxious lips turned up into a smile in no time as if he forgot what just happened. He could never turn down food.

“Does this mean?-”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpans.

Lance charismatically jumps triumphantly with a fist in the air as Hunk stayed still and perplexed. Lance wraps his free arm around Pidge who flinches again at his touch, and they head towards the plaza, leaving Hunk alone, staring at them as they became smaller.

“I am so confused.”

“So Lance was invited to the palace,” Hunk started, turning towards the boy in question who is swirling his glass with his finger, his chin resting on his free palm. 

Pidge almost chokes. She dramatically slams her glass on the counter. “Lance, that’s so great! Is this about the prince?” 

“Yeah,” Lance averts his eyes a bit farther away from Pidge’s excited, vibrating body.

Pidge frowns as Lance could feel her eyes analyzing him. The feeling made him suddenly want to sit up straighter and he looked back at her with furrowed eyebrows, curious to what she’s going to say next. 

Hunk sighs between the silence as he looks at both of them. Pidge isn’t as good at reading emotions and the invisible feelings than most people, rather always better with numbers and formulas, but she tries her best. And when she tries her best, she’s more or less accurate. 

“You seem so--” Pidge waves her hand and purses her lips. “Unenthusiastic?” She settles on before she can continue to assume Lance’s situation. 

“Are you afraid of meeting him after so long?” 

Lance groans into his glass. “Yes! That’s exactly it!” He grimaces and finally his head collapses into his arms, burying into the counter.

Pidge looks back at Hunk, as if she were looking if Hunk empathized as well, before turnin

g back to Lance and placing a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Aw c’mon Lance. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Pidge reasons. It didn’t  seem to help Lance at all, his head never lifting from its position. Lance still mopes, raising more hands for more fills, more alcohol. Seemed like he really needed a distraction more than anything. 

“Hunk,” Pidge softly called. Her eyebrows slanted to show her concern for Lance as she and Hunk shared a silent conversation. 

“I know exactly how you feel,” She added, and Lance looked back down on his glass, aware of her story. She had it worse, having her brother missing, her memories of him were slowly fading away as time passed, but this was Lance. Bright, happy, and hard-working Lance. And she’s never seen him so distraught before. It just didn’t suit him. They needed to talk.

“Lance, that’s your… sixth drink now,” Hunk joins in with the shoulder touching. “Can you tell us how you really feel?”

“I dunno,” Lance slurred, making Pidge roll her eyes. “Can I?”

Pidge frowns even harder. “Lance McClain,” She said sternly.

Lance looks to her direction, immediately catching the look on her face. He slumps a little, as if considering his decisions. Pidge quickly thanked her authority on him.

“It’s-It’s, it’s complicated!” Lance melodramatically leans back on his stool as if to show pain. 

“We can do complicated,” Hunk says as he pays the bartender. “We’re not getting you anymore drinks if you don’t tell us right now.”

Lance groans even louder, sounding similar to a whiny child. His drunken state is cute sometimes, Pidge admits, but also annoying and clingy and stubborn. So stubborn, like his mental age decreased by a decade. 

“God, this is so hard,” Lance sighs, followed by another groan, and another groan.

“I feel like I’ll be a big burden on him,” Lance finally spills. “Like what if he’s changed? And he doesn’t like me anymore?” His eyebrows furrowed dramatically. 

“What if I changed?”

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk takes a sip of his drink. 

“I care too much,” Lance admit. He thinks about the boy he used to hang out with whenever there was nothing on their plates. He remembered how sometimes they went weeks without seeing each other but the feeling could never compare to this. The boy was becoming a man now, with all these duties to fulfill after the king had passed away.

He was already on his way, preparing to become the new king.

And little old Lance was left, worrying in a bar full of sad jazz.

“Lance,” Pidge started, and she noted how many times they’ve said his name today. She hums, like she’s thinking her next words. 

“If he didn’t like you, would he have invited you?”

Hunk stretches back in his stool, the alcohol starting to kick in. They wait for Lance to answer.

“... Y’know what? You’re absolutely right,” Lance huffs and quickly stood up from his seat. Heading his way out the door in a drunken manner. 

“Oh no no no no, where do you think you’re going??” Pidge shouts, half laughing, half worried. 

“I’m off to the palace!” Lance slurred. He looks back at them for a second before shooting a finger to the sky, twisting his heel back towards the door. He kicked himself off and for a second, Pidge worried that they might never catch up to him, but Lance was slow when he was drunk, and he was definitely slow right now.

Hunk, on her right, was also drunk, but not as drunk as Lance. She shot a glare at him when he started to sing his way to Lance’s direction. 

Pidge groans. “What am I gonna do with these fools now?”

  
  


When Lance wakes up, he finds himself wrapped in a blanket of sunlight. His surroundings looked familiar but with his bleary eyes, he couldn’t really place a finger on it. 

His stomach hurt for some reason and after awhile of staring into the window above him, his eyes wandered and found a glass of water on a tray of biscuits. 

“Oh,” He whispered and he attempted to sit up until it felt like he was stabbed ten times in his abdomen. “The hell?” He looked down at his stomach and finally grasped at his new clothes. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank so much yesterday, blacking out was never a good sign for him, but he still needed it anyways. He was able to pour some of his heart out to his best friends.

Speaking of best friends… Lance continued to look around the room, searching for everything and nothing. Books splayed around the middle of the room, leaving some empty spots on the shelves. There was one poster of the solar system near the window above Lance, the window that let in the sunlight that just now started to feel like it was cooking him. 

Finally, he sat up, fighting the pain for a swift second, and he turned to lay his bare feet onto the wooden floor. 

The sheets beneath him shifted and made noise. It seemed that it was loud enough in the quiet of the room because he notices a head poke out behind an easel in his peripheral vision.

“You’re awake!” They exclaimed.

Pidge stands up and brushed herself from the dust. The sun did her wonders but if only Lance knew how he looked in Pidge’s eyes, or anyone’s in that matter. 

Her light brown hair seemed to glow (just like everything else in the room) as she took her round frames off and set them on the mini table beside her. 

Everything looked soft and fuzzy in the room, like Lance was in a warm dream and his mother could open the door any minute with a plate of cookies and warm milk in her hands. Lance shook his head (to Pidge’s displeasement) in an effort to wake himself up.

“How long have I been out?”

“Fourteen vargas,” Pidge grinned crookedly and laughed at Lance’s face morphed into a look of shock. He mirrors Pidge, standing up and brushing himself off as well, and then he went to join her. 

Lance hums an old tune from his childhood as he clasped at his hands behind him, looking at what Pidge had up on her easel this time. Fully awake now, he squints at the blueprints and realize that it’s his work from yesterday. 

“Wait,” He started. “This is.. These are mine?” He questioned Pidge. He recognized the designs and the way the lines connected in his own style.

Pidge grinned. “Yup,” she said, popping the P. “You have so much potential, Lance. I don’t think you understand.” She motions her hands around the whole thing and Lance couldn’t help but blush from the compliment.

“That’s because you’re not studying architecture, Pidge,” He laughed off. The blush never left his cheeks until Pidge shook her head at him with a disappointed look. It was true though. Pidge was more of an engineer but that didn’t make his excuse any true. Pidge had an eye for talent. Without it, the Innovators would have never existed. 

“Don’t we have a meeting again today?” Lance asked. It’s a Tuesday. He looks at the clock and releases a breath of relief when he calculates the time he has before his job.

“Actually, yes.” Pidge said as she walked to the space beside her door and took her coat from the hooks. “In fact, I’ve been informed that we have a new member.”

Lance’s heart fills with excitement, “Do you know their name yet?” Another person to tease, Lance wondered if the new member is cute. 

“The new kid’s name is James Griffin,” Pidge smiled. “He’s pretty talented for a newbie.”

Lance’s hand drops to his side. His face losing color.

“Griffin? James Griffin?”

How unexpected.

 

**Author's Note:**

> WOW my first actual fic posted here!! I've had this lying in my drafts for a long time now (2018 november,,, okay then) I hope you don't mind the inconsistent past/present tense, and the first/third person pov (it bothers me as well)  
> I really hope that this will be sucessful for both readers to enjoy and for me to develop as a writer!! Hope you're all still looking for klance content :'))  
> I'm still kind of iffy about the plot that I've written out but I guess it'll shape itself as we go. Enjoy!


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